~ falling all over again (or so I thought) ~

ScreamingPadfoot

As Fleur opened her eyes, she became distinctly aware of her throbbing headache and blurred vision. Beside her in bed, she could see a shock of red hair. "...Bill…" she murmured automatically, making to sit up so she could grind the heels of her palms into her eyes.

"Not this time," a familiar voice said sadly. When she re-opened her eyes, she could see a lot more clearly. Charlie laid back on the pillow beside hers, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

It had happened again. This was the third — or was it the fourth, or the fifth — time that Fleur had woken up, not in her familiar pale blue sheets from Shell Cottage, but within the maroon furnishings of Charlie Weasley's London flat. That she had allowed herself to crawl, like a cat on heat, towards his open arms. That she had allowed herself to drink herself into a stupor, as if that would be a good enough excuse for falling into bed with her husband's brother.

"I'm sorry, Fleur," Charlie's voice wasn't the confident one that she was used to. It cracked as he spoke. "I shouldn't...we shouldn't…"

"You shouldn't apologise," Fleur whispered. "I came 'ere. I always come 'ere."

Charlie rolled onto his side, to face Fleur. She felt suddenly vulnerable under his direct gaze. "You love Bill, don't you?"

"Of course," Fleur replied. She wasn't sure what that love meant anymore, while she had been engaging in this affair with Charlie. But she knew she loved him. She knew she didn't love Charlie — she just needed him. And right now, he needed her.

Ever since Fred's death and Voldemort had been vanquished, things hadn't been as perfect as people had expected. Bill had fallen into a depression. He was stuck with new, wolfish tendencies that he couldn't understand. He didn't know how to interact with his family anymore. He felt ostracised from them, different, strange. He isolated himself away from Fleur and everyone, locking himself into a single room for hours on end, emerging only to eat or use the bathroom.

Fleur had tried to pull him out of his thoughts. She tried to take him to visit his parents, his siblings — but the pain had been too much for him to bear. He snapped at her bitterly, and in those moments Fleur could see the shadow of the wolf behind his uncharacteristic snarl, and Bill saw the flash of fear in her eyes, and he hated himself even more.

She became lonely when he distanced himself from her. Her own family were remaining staunchly in France, and Fleur couldn't bring herself to leave Bill for a long period of time to visit them. When she visited the Weasleys alone, she didn't feel connected to them as they huddled together in their grief. When she went to the Burrow, she felt lonelier than ever.

Except, that is, when Charlie was there. Like her, he seemed just as isolated from the rest of the family. Shortly after Fred had been laid to rest, Charlie had tried to say a few words at the funeral to commemorate his brother, but George had snapped at him. 'How can you act like you knew him, like you knew any of us? You ran off to Romania at the first chance you got, and we hardly ever saw you after that!'

That fact alone drew Charlie further away from his family, and into the arms of the only other person who understood him. Fleur.

"We can stop. I promise, just tell me and we'll stop," Charlie said.

He twisted in the sheets, turning on his side to look at her. Fleur still felt guilt even though she craved comfort in Charlie's arms. His brown? eyes studied her face and Fleur rang a hand through her blonde hair. She didn't know what to say, or do. She only thing she knew was that she couldn't be alone, not with Bill in such a dark place.

"I do not know what to do," Fleur admitted to him.

Charlie heaved a sigh, emulating her action by pushing his hair from his face and then tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. I don't know either."

Fleur closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.

"But Fleur," he said. "I promise we'll figure it out, okay?"

"Okay."

oOo

It was summer before Bill came out of his room for longer than a couple of hours. Fleur noticed that he'd taken the time to shave, for the first time in months, and had cut his hair. After a few days, he seemed brighter, chattier, more eager to go back to being a husband and wife unit again.

"Bill?" Fleur started one morning, as she plunged her hands into the washing up bowl. "Are you feeling okay?"

Bill smiled apologetically at her from across the kitchen table. "I won't lie to you, love, I'm still not feeling myself," he started weakly. "But I've had a lot of time to think. I know I've been neglecting you, and my family, because I've been so down over everything. I'm going to do my best to start looking towards our future, and not dwelling on the past."

Fleur smiled brightly, though she couldn't help but worry about the actions of her past, and present. She wondered briefly if she should confess, but Bill looked so pleased when she served him breakfast, and seemed so happy as he kissed her thankfully on the cheek, that she couldn't bear to potentially sink him into that depression again.

Over the following few days, Bill took her for dinner, they went on walks along the cliff tops and the coast, and cuddled on the sofa during the evenings. Fleur didn't think of Charlie once, and by the time the weekend arrived, she found herself falling back into her marital bed, with the man she loved.

oOo

When Fleur arrived at Charlie's apartment for the last time, he knew that something had changed.

She hadn't been for over a week, and she hadn't contacted him once. Also, when she turned up on his doorstep, her face wasn't flush with need or desperation, her eyes weren't filled with lust. "This has to stop," she said immediately, not even accepting Charlie's invitation inside.

"I know," Charlie replied. "I know."

"Bill is getting better," she told him. "We...I think we are falling in love again."

Charlie didn't react for a few moments, but a forced smile soon spread across his features. "I'm so glad," he told her.

Fleur didn't know if he was really glad at all, but she couldn't get into that conversation with him. They both knew that their relationship had been fleeting - something to fulfill the needs they had at the time. And now, things were looking up. Those needs weren't there anymore.

When Fleur returned to Shell Cottage, she felt as though a great weight had been lifted, even though she knew she wasn't going to tell Bill. That part of her life was over.

oOo

"Or so I thought," she murmured to herself as she sat against the bathroom door, looking down at a piece of plastic in her hand.

The pregnancy test was positive.

Written For: Daily Prompt 4 - (genre) Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,212